


Amanuensis Files

by CrescentMoogle



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien Culture, Observations of a roaming scientist, Original Universe, Other, Science Fiction & Fantasy, alien planets, exploring new universes, inspired by the Myst series, space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-01-25 13:57:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12533096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrescentMoogle/pseuds/CrescentMoogle
Summary: An original work, documenting the travels of roaming scientist Erika Quill, aboard her exploration vessel - the Amanuensis.This tale will be written in the form of the Amanuensis' logbook, as our brave professor utilises an experimental mode of transportation to traverse many strange, alien worlds.





	1. World 001 - Ironwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Transmission to Polestar via Outreach -
> 
> Subject: 012005EQ - Mission Report
> 
> This marks my first official transport to an unexplored sector. All systems optimal and prepped for randomised jump 01-α. I shall be departing from Dock 12 of the mother station 'Polestar' within an hour.
> 
> Inventoried are supplies for three months' travel, along with exploration gear, atmospheric and terrestrial monitoring equipment, and five Axistones, excluding the Return stones paired with Polestar, which are to be used at the end of this venture. I have been supplied with three Return stones, all to be stored safely in different bays of the Amanuensis, in case of unforeseen events.  
> Standby for exploration log.
> 
> Wish me luck!
> 
> Prof. Quill.

Day I

* * *

Realm shows a breathable atmosphere, temperate climate, and level, unbroken terrain with above average biodiversity.

Arriving here, my first view is of an imposing, dark forest. The bark of the trees here is charcoal-black and carries an inorganic, smooth sheen, and one would assume it to be winter, since these trees bear no leaves upon their closely-woven branches. The nature of the leafless trees; so closely grown in pathways and arches that seem almost as if they are cultivated to remain so neat; creates a permanent twilight. I have yet to venture above the canopy to determine the celestial state of this realm.

In contrast to the pitch-bark megaflora, the shrub layer is an abstract of lime greens and neon-bright flowering grasses that offset the sparseness of the treeline with their feathery tendrils. I have yet to encounter any fauna here aside from large moth-like insectoids that flit away into the undergrowth at any sign of movement.

However, there are signs of the presence of grazing herbivorous lifeforms here; grasses cropped short in places, and scattered throughout every lush, winding pathway of the forest, the empty shells of the strange seeds that inspired me to name this realm 'Ironwood'.

When whole, they appear as regularly-shaped, metallic capsules reminiscent of iron ore nodules scattered evenly throughout the forest as far as I can see. I would assume that they fall from the trees, though I only find them littering the forest floor, and not upon the branches overhead. Perhaps I have arrived during the season these seeds fall from the trees?

These capsules are roughly 11 inches in diameter on average, bearing patches of rust-like reddish deposits on their exteriors, and are apparently hollow - I have seen many empty husks as I mentioned.

I would assume that the husks originally contained a seed - perhaps similar to that of a horse chestnut.

 

Day II

* * *

After scavenging several husks and whole pods of varying sizes, I have returned to the Amanuensis. Having compared the mass of the untouched pods to that of damaged or 'opened' ones of similar size, it is clear that whatever the shells conceal is rather dense.

The shells are perhaps an inch thick, and would require incredibly sharp teeth or a beak of precise design to open the tough exterior without risk to the internal components.

More notes on this research to follow when I am able to fashion suitable tools - perhaps upon direct study of the native fauna I can discover how the locals unlock the illusive capsules.

It is very quiet here, in the Ironwood. While I work, no wind disturbs the pages of my books or the fronds of the grasses around me. I have taken to working outside, since the temperature does not waver more than a degree either side of 18°C, and there has been no rain. I occasionally notice the short, warbling calls of some animal in the trees around me - perhaps a bird - but there is otherwise no sound or movement.

 

Day III

* * *

No sign of any native animal life as of yet, aside from the calls of that same creature that continued while I slept. I am grateful for the presence of the unseen creature, even as I become accustomed to its noises and tone them out. Without its song, it would be quite lonely here.

The Ironhusk pods I left outside the Amanuensis while I rested remain untouched. I shall check on the other pods I have left for observation further away from the ship as I walk. It is likely that my clumsy, invasive presence is but a disturbance to the creatures here.

Today, I locked down the Amanuensis and set out with supplies enough for three days of hiking, along with a compass calibrated to the ship's magnetic core, and a hammock. It has not rained since I arrived here, and the forest has continued to maintain a temperate, autumnal atmosphere, making sleeping between the trees preferable to the cramped bunk of my vessel.

I have yet to see a change in the light levels here either. It is likely that the day/night cycle here is an awful lot longer than the planets I am used to. At almost fifty hours here now, it is clear that night, or day, is slow to arrive, or simply will not arrive at all. I don't mind. The dusky light is gentle on the eyes and I have no need for artificial lights while I work.

This place is peaceful, though I do not feel I am alone...

 

Day IV

* * *

People!

I sit now in an open-walled shack, built modestly from the trees of the Ironwood. It's something akin to a workshop, and I came across it by chance as I followed emerald-grass pathways at random.

As I write, I hear the movements and workings of the person I found living here.

I translate, from our attempts at communication, that his name is 'Dhorm', as close as I can replicate the soft, guttural language he speaks. It was easy enough to make contact with the broad, dark-skinned individual through the usual communication protocol of simple sign language, sound, and drawings.

From watching his work, it appears that this man has the duty of processing the Ironhusk pods. He has taught me the basics of the skill with which he pries open the shells, with hooked metal pins akin to tiny crowbars knocked into faults along the surface of the pod.

Other members of the same race as Dhorm have passed through, trading in their hushed tones for the results of my new ally's work. The contents of the Ironhusks are in fact seeds, resembling succulent truffles more than chestnuts. Dhorm boils these truffles until they are soft, and have lost their russet hues, and the resulting infused liquid is bottled and sold to the local people.

It is my understanding that the liquid, though carrying an alcoholic scent, is not for general consumption, and I deduce that it is a medicinal tincture.

Of those who have passed through to acquire this cure, all have been tall; on average over six feet; and all have dark skin which bears apparently natural stripes and markings that bring to mind Maori tattoos or tiger stripes. This may bring them an advantage in the form of camouflage when moving through the forest. Their body language suggests respect for physical strength and agility, with the more lithe and muscular individuals leading the small groups that travel through.

Now that I see them, it does not surprise me that I might have failed to notice their sly, quiet presence among the trees. They are not especially wary of my presence, suggesting that they are a peaceful people, unthreatened by predators or each other. 'Tonight' I will stay close to Dhorm's workshop, and attempt to learn a little more of his peoples' language and customs.

 

Day V

* * *

I have reluctantly returned to the Amanuensis. The Axistone is calibrating nicely as I write, which is a relief, since I hope to return to this forest on a future mission, with an anthropologist to learn more of its people's ways.

I traded with Dhorm for a flask of the red tincture in return for my labour collecting and opening Ironhusks. Who knows what its properties might reveal?

For now, the flask is in a quarantine tank along with three Ironhusks, for transport back to the labs on Polestar. This may be medicine to the people of Ironwood, but it may not be so beneficial to the health of my species.

The charged Axistone is suitably intriguing - having taken on a lime green colouration, struck through with black branching structures, and at its heart, a core of metallic, red ore.

 


	2. World 002 - Asalmii-α

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Transmission to Polestar via Outreach -
> 
> Subject: 012005EQ - Mission Update
> 
> Safely returned from primary investigation site with calibrated Axistone and samples of local fauna, along with written results of interaction with sentient local lifeforms.
> 
> Amanuensis continues to function in perfect parameters, no faults of any kind. My compliments (and continued gratitude for my own peace of mind) to the engineers at PD-12.
> 
> Due to the success of first launch, I will continue the mission as briefed. Realigning for randomised jump 01-β. Standby for exploration log.
> 
> Prof. Quill

Day I

* * *

 

Realm scans show a breathable atmosphere, volatile tropical climate, and highly irregular terrain with average biodiversity.

Another forested biosphere. Not actually so surprising, since we are screening for biologically active worlds. Before humanity did their thing, Earth wasn't so very different.

Although the atmosphere here is technically breathable, it also has a constituent ratio that is practically Palaeozoic. Any strenuous activity in this environment would require incredible resolve, which I for one do not have the inclination or physique for. That, and the temperature in daylight hours is sitting at around 43°C. Time to make use of that positively _glamorous_ exo-suit.

However, the soupy air quality does make for an interesting opportunity. Flying the Nemoglide in this environment will be unusually effortless, with no need to locate suitable updrafts. Another upside is that I'll be less impaired by the exo-suit than if I traversed by foot. I shall have to monitor the weather patterns further before I make landfall, though, due to the storm risk posed by a very volatile high-Mesospheric cloud layer.

My only other major difficulty is locating a landing site for the Amanuensis. As I write this, I have been scanning for several hours with no signs of a break in the vegetation large enough to set down.

 

Finally! I've found a lake large enough to make use of. Thank Helium for good, old-fashioned buoyancy tanks. The landing was so smooth I hardly felt it. The water is, unfortunately, utterly unsafe for drinking or even touching, due to high levels of fluorine and other similar poisonous elements in the soil. A shame, since it looked so invitingly green and clear from the air, especially in the uncomfortable heat of this climate.

It has grown considerably brighter than when I first arrived, so I suppose I should make use of the daylight while it lasts. I have sent up a fixed-altitude beacon above the Amanuensis, since the forest is quite forbiddingly murky. I don't trust my compass to find the ship through all those trees. Tallyho!

 

Using the Nemoglide has been a dream. The people responsible for this device really are something else. After the initially unsteady takeoff, the glider took to the dense air like it never has before. I hardly had to correct it, once it got into motion. I could have surfed above the yellowish tops of the forest canopy for hours, listening to the sounds of wildlife drifting up from beneath, were my peace not so disturbed by the heat.

I'm not so stoic as I would like to think, though, and I had to make my way through a gap in the canopy after barely fifteen minutes. Thankfully the trees are so closely intertwined - by their strange, twisted trunks and many kinds of climbing plants - that it is rather dim and much cooler below, with an average temperature of 31°C. As I suspected, the trees block my compass from aligning to the magnetic core of the Amanuensis; it's up to my sense of direction alone once the lake is out of sight.

 

After a long time spent fighting my way back and forth through the same mile or so of undergrowth, I was so bothered by the limitations of the suit and my own stamina in this unbearable humidity, that I had to return to my ship. I have never longed for the Amanuensis' hermetically-sealed environment so much.

More tomorrow. For now, I need cold water and sleep.

 

Day II

* * *

 

Time to try again.

With such a thriving ecology you would assume that there would be more fauna here, but I have found none so far aside from some truly tiny aquatic invertebrates (samples collected). There is plenty of noise, though. Even from the muffled confines of my suit I can hear continuous chittering, perhaps of primates or avians, but they would have to be either very many, or very large to make that much cacophony.

 

I have stopped to collect myself and assess the samples of local flora. I have spotted an occasional small insect or avian, but nothing I could reliably report on. Perhaps I should set up some humane traps. A while ago, I found the tracks of some larger animal; broken branches and gnawed vines at about three feet above ground level. After this, I will follow them further.

I've brought a pouch-full of long-life flares with me today to reduce the risk of getting lost. In a worst-case scenario, I can always climb my way to the canopy to get my bearings, but I would really rather not have to haul the wretched suit all the way up through this soup.

 

It's an insect making all that racket, and I don't mean cicadas! I spotted it making steady flight just below the canopy - something quite remarkable, and about as unsettling and you might expect an alien species to be: similar to a dragonfly, if a dragonfly had a sleek black carapace, over thirty pairs of hooked limbs, and made a sound like a saw blade through metal.

It doesn't look to be aggressive, despite its uncomfortable calls and being around fifteen feet long, so I am following its flight path at a very healthy distance. It is moving ponderously and without changing course, as if it were just following air currents. Perhaps it wouldn't be too optimistic to hope it is a filter-feeder.

I have begun to notice other such creatures, now that I know where to look, and I have decided to name them 'Myrioptera' for now, for lack of a sensible classification. I'll leave that to any entomologist hardy enough to make the journey out here and study these creatures. (Note to eager entomologists: these bugs have very large, very serrated mandibles, which I think is how they generate that screeching sound.)

 

After spending the day quite on edge and wary of the gigantic Myrioptera, I followed the flare trail back to base, picking the markers up as I travelled. Tomorrow I will locate those animal tracks on the forest floor again, and follow them.

 

Day III

* * *

 

Amanuensis tells me there is a storm coming. Time to activate preemptive lockdown. I have extended all six tensile anchors and sunk the Amanuensis into the fluorine lake, which is blissful compared to this looming forest which I am quickly coming to resent. Perhaps the wonder of my first destination was beginners' luck.

I must stay positive. At least being submerged gives me the opportunity to study the aquatic lifeforms here. I will only close the viewport shutters when the storm truly approaches.

 

The storm kept me awake for most of the night. While I don't at all mind a regular storm, believe me that it doesn't feel quite so comforting whilst holed up inside a little pod on an alien world, buffeted about by the relentless winds and with only a few inches of insulation between you and the most powerful lightning strikes you have ever experienced. Usually, it's the thunder you can hear, but apparently it's not so on this world.

Somehow, though, there is a most wonderful silver lining. Well, it isn't silver, but bright yellowish-green. Fluorescence! When I opened the shutters after the storm passed, I was greeted by the water of the lake itself shining in through the viewports.

It would seem that the positive impact of the storm was to activate some hidden property of the water, perhaps a reaction of the fluorine elements to the charge from the lightning strikes. When I raised the Amanuensis back to the surface, it was still dark, but the lake gave off this brilliance. This forest has somewhat redeemed itself.

I have taken samples of the water and soil for study. I would so love to be able to replicate this effect in a fashion that is not poisonous to most lifeforms.

Another positive of the storm is that the air is much cooler now, despite being impossibly humid. I removed my helmet for a short while to appreciate it, but the asthmatic sensation of breathing without the respirator got to me quickly. I will admit to not being the most tolerant to physical discomfort.

As I sit at the bank of the shimmering lake, the closeness of the trees suddenly makes an awful lot more sense from a survival standpoint - if the trunks didn't weave with each other, and the vines didn't cling so dearly, none of this forest would survive the power of those storms.

 

Day IV

* * *

 

Another success for science today!

Having returned to following those tracks on the forest floor, I have come across a colony of small mammals similar to lemurs, with dark, coarse fur and yellow eyes. They are rather intelligent, communicating with one another via physical interactions rather than sound. After initially being wary of my presence, they have quickly become accustomed to me as I sit nestled in the buttress roots of a large tree to write my notes.

Their interaction is something I have never seen before; using their hands to convey intentions to each other and maintaining constant physical contact within what I assume to be family groups. The only sound they produce are very occasional clicks of the tongue. The interaction reminds me somewhat of sign language... What with my medical history, it is endearing to say the least.

Their eyes are large and forward-facing, in distinctly triangular faces, and they bear prehensile tails that have a flash of yellowish fur at the tip. As soon as it became apparent that I was not a threat, several groups of them approached me. They seem comfortable to sit upon me and tap on the visor, apparently aware that I am not so different from them.

As much as I would like to communicate with them, their size - standing on average under two feet tall - makes me worry that I could injure them. Doing so in a community of creatures so obviously intelligent could be catastrophic. I will continue to observe with caution.

 

The primates - 'Asalmii' - are insectivores, working together in their familial groups to trap the invertebrates that scurry through the trees. Since they have so much more aptitude than I at catching them, I have now a few good samples of the indigenous fauna.

They have brought me a few live creatures grasped tightly in their hands to stop them from biting. The Myrioptera are apparently not the only example of segmented, mandible-wielding beasts with tough, glistening exoskeletons.

I think the Asalmii believe that I am wounded or dying, as they repeatedly check on my consciousness by tapping on my visor or prodding me, and when I failed to kill and eat the insects brought to me, they began to break open the thick shells for me with sharp sticks and stones.

They also brought me water, drained into large leaves from notches cut into the vines - the signs that lead me to the colony in the first place. The water from inside the plants is totally pure, and when scanned shows no signs of fluorine or other poisonous elements. The ecosystem provides...

 

The Myrioptera seem to be a threat to the Asalmii, as when one passed overhead, giving its chittering call, the primates ran for the cover of the vines and twisted trunks. To my relief, though, the airborne creature did not attack, and my new mammalian allies returned quickly after a vocal signal was given by one of their number, likely the lookout.

Tool use, communication, and charity are undeniable signs of a highly intelligent species, and these primates really are something a little special.

 

When heading back to base, the Asalmii began to follow me, and after very little time they started to mimic my act of collecting my flares as I walked. They function in groups of four or five, with their hands or tails reaching out to each other at all times. Some individuals travel separately, acting as scouts or lookouts.

They tend to stay off the ground where possible, climbing horizontally between tree trunks about three feet up. I wish the primatologists could see the way they twine their tails around recovered flares and pass them from one another to carry them as they climb.

When I reached the lake, they became reluctant to follow me, I assume due to the water itself. One of the 'scouts' did brave the stretch of rocky shore to watch me as I extended the jetty back to the ship.

 

Day V

* * *

 

All samples have been catalogued and quarantined, and the Axistone is calibrating. The melancholy of leaving another world is setting in. I alone among my species have come to know these dense canopies and glowing waters, but it is likely I shall never return here - the terrain is too far from ideal to be of use to the project. The apprehension of having to make another jump is always present, too.

With every successful, balanced realm I come upon, the likelihood of the next one being uninhabitable and torturous increases. But still, the fear is masked by the excitement of knowing that the next place I travel to could be the planet we are truly looking for.

I made one final trip into the forest, following the Asalmii trail. Once I made it to their clearing, I left for them a gift while they watched me with those acid-yellow eyes. I have set up one of the high-endurance emergency shelters, four feet off the ground, with stays driven into the closest trees. Inside, I set a supply of my flares and some survival blankets.

With the lush biosphere, it won't be long before the nest becomes disguised and reinforced beneath the vines, and hopefully it will serve to protect the Asalmii from their airborne predators.

They might never understand, and you may call me sentimental all you like, but these beings are as much people as any human I have met, and treated me with much more acceptance.

The charged Axistone is yellow, of course, and holds a texture like twisted vines. It glows in a certain light, and the pattern in the centre somewhat reminds me of an eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Private Log:
> 
> I returned from my final venture to find one of the scout Asalmii sleeping in my bunk, and he refused to leave, no matter what I did.
> 
> It seems wrong to take him with me since I cannot explain to him how dangerous it would be, but at the same time, the company would be appreciated...
> 
> I can always make an unsanctioned detour to drop him back home before I return to Polestar. Nobody would ever have to know.
> 
>  
> 
> His name is Nine - the atomic number of fluorine.


End file.
